


The Gale Merciless

by Archaema



Series: The Pirate Queen and the Lord Admiral Ride the Storms [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/F, Kinda fluffy I guess?, Pirate Queen AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 13:17:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17142446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archaema/pseuds/Archaema
Summary: On the seven seas, there ruled a pirate queen, deadly and dark with a ship as swift as the night.In Kul’tiras, the Banshee Queen’s ill reputation drew attention from the highest station.And the Lord Admiral decided it was time to take action, the storm at her back and filling her sails.





	The Gale Merciless

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking about three or four shorts for this little AU. This first one is from a prompt on Discord from some lovely people.

The scent of brine was heavy as the frigate cut into the waves effortlessly. The crashes of the sea as it was cleaved by the bow roared as the ship raced, its sails wide and taut from nearly gale force winds. The dark wood of the upper decks of the ship glistened as the moon rose low on the horizon, casting a pallid glow over the rough waters under a clear sky.

“Captain,” called out a voice from the nest high on the ship’s mast. It was hard to hear against the cacophony of the ocean, but a pair of long, slender ears twitched in response, shifting ever so slightly toward the scout high above. “Galleon, coming in fast from the anchorage!”

“What?” The captain turned her head to look as soon as she heard the advisement. She squinted as she glared out behind the ship. The waves rolled and obscured her vision, and so with an unnatural grace, she turned had began scaling the rigging as if it were second nature.

“They’re gaining, Captain!” The scout’s voice was hushed, and filled with bewilderment when she reached him.

“How can a ship that size be gaining on us?” The captain needed no spyglass as she turned to look into the distance, and caught a small black dot marring the sliver of silver that was the surface of the distant water. Sometimes it disappeared for a moment, but the sails were never fully out of sight.

It was gaining on them, for certain.

There was nothing normal about the speed the larger ship was achieving, either. They had been almost a full day from the port, and barring bizarre coincidence, there was no mistaking their aim.

Wordlessly, she descended the rigging and landed in a crouch on the deck.

“Velonara, wake Nathanos. He’s to be ready in three hours,” she said through a tight-lipped smile. “If they want to catch the _Banshee Queen_ , they’re have to pay a price in iron.” Any galleon would be more than a match to a frigate like theirs, even as powerful a vessel as her pride and joy was. It should also never have been able to catch a ship as swift.  A literal impossibility.

“Yes, Captain,” Velonara replied sharply, her voice cool and detached. The fellow pirates that were Sylvanas’s once sisterhood always made the captain proud, even if she was sparing in her praise. They knew, though. The way they were treated was different from the rest of the crew, all pirates who in one way or another owed their lives to their leader.

As she crossed the deck, moving with frightening speed, Sylvanas grabbed the upper arm of her third mate, Clea. Like Velonara, she bore the pale skin of one of her sisterhood. Her red eyes flitted up to her captain, an eerie sight when they looked out from under the hood she still had draped over her. It was rare to see her without it, even long after the sun had fallen.

“Make sure all 74 guns are ready, along with the fore and aft castle. We’re not going to let them play their proper little soldier’s game of pulling up and trading broadsides.” Sylvanas kept her voice low, barely audible. Her other hand had clenched into a fist. They could draw it out and outmaneuver them, surely, but a galleon’s firepower made their own look miniscule. “They may be fast, but we’ll have plenty of time to welcome them as they come up behind us.”

To the coldly furious comments of her captain, Clea simply nodded and waited for the release of her arm. At that, she turned and headed for below decks, passing through one of the hatches in near silence.

Sylvanas knew that in only a short time, powder and shot would be set in place and ready to go, and the massive lines of cannons would be untethered so they could be recoil safely. Doors would be closed and locked, items would be stowed to avoid flying debris, and most importantly, her crew would be mentally ready.

In a short time, as Sylvanas perched herself against the aft railing of the ship and watched the rolling sea, she heard a voice cut through the ambiance of the crashing waves from behind her.

“Captain,” it said. “Shall we keep half the gun doors closed as normal, and surprise them?”

“Nathanos,” she said, with a twitch of a single ear. Her first mate could feel the annoyance burning off of his captain, and did not step closer. “No tricks like that.” Her voice remained cold fury, ready to unleash without warning. “A ship using magic to travel at that speed, and of that size, knows what they’re after. They’ll have done their research. All it would buy us is an undergunned volley.”

“You don’t think they’re here for a conversation?”

“Really, Nathanos?”

“I don’t really believe that, either,” he said, giving a sardonic chuckle. “Can you see their colors? Who are they?”

Sylvanas gave a hum of consideration, shaking her head.

“It’s hard to make out, but given the sail shape and the speed, it must be a Kul’tiran ship.”

The news drew a surprised exhale from Nathanos, who came to lean against the rail and fixed his eyes in the distance along with his captain’s.

“I assure you I have no idea why they’ve taken an interest in us. We’ve always given due caution to avoid their ships.” Sylvanas’s hand was gripping the railing harshly; any more, and Nathanos feared she would tear into the preserved lacquering that kept it safe from the sea’s harsh mist of salt. “Alliance ships are always worthwhile prey, but their paths diverged a long time ago.”

“Perhaps the _Banshee Queen_ became too tempting a jewel in their Lord Admiral’s crown,” Nathanos replied, frowning. “That you, that we’d be nothing but a prize to them…” His voice trailed off in anger.

“Nathanos, we have four full squadrons of ships that answer to us,” Sylvanas replied with a chill laugh. “Being fast and on our own always granted us the power to move unseen. They’ve just outplayed us at last.”

“We’re not going to go down that easily.”

“No, we will make them regret chasing us down.” Sylvanas gave a wry grin, eyes briefly glancing up to Nathanos before fixing on the ship in the distance again. “I’ll admit, I’m starting to regret not retiring to some pleasant island with my girls.”

“You’d have gotten bored without something to hunt,” he replied, though it earned single, chuffed laugh. When it fell quiet, again, with only the sound of the sea, his smile faded. “How long now, do you think?”

“An hour, maybe even less. They’re even faster than I first thought.” She slowly rapped her fingertips on the rail, her posture easing suddenly. Her ears twitched, pulling back a bit, and she smiled.

She grinned.

It was positively, beautifully, and terrifyingly brilliant.

“Nathanos, do we still have the palanquin and throne from Pandaren?”

“We do, captain, but…”

“Have them bring them up, and throw some good, dark cloth on the seat. Set it out ahead of the wheel. Get Velonara here, too. I will need her, and Clea to each perform a part. The others will know what to do, once they see.”

“…As you wish, my Captain.” Nathanos bowed, arm sweeping low. He turned, heading off to tend to the request.

Twenty minutes later, the first thump from one of the Banshee Queen’s aft castle guns carried across the increasingly calm water.

Six doors hid those canons, laid in below the captain’s quarters. They were not often made use of, so the compartments were cramped, but the shock they could deliver had turned the tides of battle before.

All six of those doors were open.

Yet, only one fired.

In the distance, a high splash went up alongside the approaching ship, and in return, there was a flash of fire and powder, as an answering shot arced above the water. With a harsh scratch, it bounced off the side of the Banshee Queen’s hull harmlessly.

Only a single shot fired in response. Another splash.

The results were duplicated again by the Kul’tiran galleon’s fore cannons. Even firing their battery, the distance and angle made it hard to harm the swift, black ship.

Then, it quieted to a single cannon.

For twenty minutes, they exchanged shots from the small fore and aft weapons, until the great green and yellow sails were visible. They could see the rigging, the armed soldiers on deck of the vessel, and even at the front, a figure surrounded by swirling wind and arcane power.

“So, the Lord Admiral herself really did come,” Clea said, narrowing her eyes as she crouched against rigging above Nathanos. “Bizarre.”

“This whole situation is bizarre. Why aren’t they firing?” Nathanos was tense, very nearly vibrating in annoyance. “I trust the captain, but why the bizarre requests?”

“You just said you trust her, didn’t you?” Clea’s reply was old, a long eyebrow twitching in irritation along with a long ear. It made a tiny dimple in her hood briefly.

“Yes,” he spoke slowly, “I did.” He crossed his arm and glared out at the approaching galleon.

“You’re like a brother to us all, Nathanos, but please,” Clea said, turning a glaring eye over her shoulder, “shut up for once.”

“Were you this insufferable before the curse befell you?” Nathanos replied, rolling his eyes.

“Worse, this mellowed me out.”

Nathanos snorted a laugh, but tried to keep it under his breath as best he could.

“Yes, I quite believe that,” he said, with a shake of his head.

“We have a show to put on, either way,” Clea whispered, her lips curled in a smirk.

“Ah, so it is. Here they are.” Nathanos stepped off toward the mast, and if anyone had been watching, the way he slipped into the shadows would have seemed impossible.

The Kul’Tiran ship was considerably taller at the deck than the _Banshee Queen_ , its massive rows of cannon covering hatches falling shut as the ship drew up alongside the smaller frigate. The proud colors, sea foam green and gold, were painted as highlights, and crests were forged and almost felt like extra badges of armor on the warship. The nation’s flag flew from now less than three points on the ship, lazily waving in the breeze.

A breeze that was eerily calm despite its strength, as if they had entered the eye of a storm when the ship reached them. The waves had calmed, making it all too easy for a long plank, wide enough to allow an entire carriage to cross, to be lowered to the deck.

The crew of the Banshee Queen stepped out to the plank, a group of a dozen darkly dressed women standing to form a corridor to the ship’s rear castle, where a black sail obscured sight. A long carpet, red and plush, was rolled out by another. He routed it along the deck, up the stairs to the aft, and beyond.

No more time as afforded for preparation.

Onto the plank stepped the figure of the Lord Admiral. Her hair, white with a shock of blond, was braided and fell alongside a blue, gold-trimmed collar. The long jacket was flowing and finely embroidered with buttons and lining, fully befitting a leader of a nation and a ruler of the seas. At her side, a sabre was sheathed, its guard plain and practical but for one detail. Her hand was settled atop a crystal, glowing softly blue at the end of the pommel.

With the wave of a hand, she stayed the group of armored soldiers that assembled on either side of her.

“No, I will proceed on my own,” she said, shaking her head. She began her path down to the bewildered murmurs of her honor guard. Her stride was slow, each step filled with a confident strength. There was a nearly tangible aura about her, as if she owned the _Banshee Queen_ just as much as she did her own ship.

“Lord Admiral,” Clea said from her place as the first in line. “For what purpose do you board the Captain’s ship?” She gave a low bow, but her eyes never wavered nor strayed from the invader. It earned a huff of boredom from Jaina, who turned her gaze to the aft of the ship.

“I’ve come to request parlay with your so-called queen,” came the response. “Would you inform her that Lord Admiral Jaina Proudmoore wishes to discuss… matters… with her.”

“She anticipated you might be here for something other than a fight to the death,” Velonara replied from her spot opposite Clea. “If you’d follow the welcoming carpet, Lord Admiral.” There was a hint of sarcasm each time they spoke the title, but Jaina seemed to pay it no mind. That they paid the respect of properly addressing her was sufficient for the time being.

“I trust you are aware that any tricks would result in me turning this vessel into a floating icicle,” Jaina said, giving a hard tap with her heel against the carpet and wood beneath. She did not wait for a response, flourishing her coat as she began a brisk stride toward the stairs.

The sisters did not follow, watching from under their hoods as the Lord Admiral reached the stairs.

The stairs up to the aft of the ship were steep, made of old wood just as the rest of the ship that creaked with age but held strength beneath the deep stains. Jaina could not see quite up to the deck, and so, with a slow breath, she took the first step. This is where the plan became experiment. In part, she was amazed that Sylvanas’s ship had not turned and given a broadside as they closed.

It felt off.

The peculiar prelude, though, did not in any way prepare her for what greeted her as her gaze crested the deck.

Jaina had summoned as much courage as she could for the moment she was to meet the infamous captain of the _Banshee Queen;_ the woman who shared the same title as her ship, the woman who had killed ruthlessly time and time again. Neither spice nor gold nor textile shipment was safe from her grip, and those that resisted went down with their ships, whether dead or still alive.

A woman of force of will like Jaina had rarely heard. One of deeds that had earned the grudging respect of the Lord Admiral, but also a very different attention.

She had little idea if Sylvanas knew she had seen her on that day in Stormwind. From across the harbor, nearly, Jaina had caught sight of the pirate queen as she crossed into the markets, no doubt bartering some ill-gotten goods. As much as they had tried, they had never managed to stamp out the black market in the Alliance.

Jaina knew she should have sounded the alarm, set spies on the woman, let the customs officials know.

She spent an hour tracking her, instead, with her magic. The scrying let her see her much closer, the pale blond hair and gray skin that marked her as cursed. The curse was rumored to be old gods at times, demons at others, but whatever it had been to curse the Banshee Queen, it had not managed to destroy her beauty.

Beauty that she knew she had to see up close, in person.

Nothing could have prepared Jaina for the sheer power of arrogant smugness that permeated the woman she saw before her. Reclined on the throne pilfered from foreign lands, she sat askew, her boots on the black rugs upon which the regal furniture sat but her body at a lazy angle, one arm on the armrest to prop her up slightly.  The other held her sheathed rapier beside her, the weapon held up perfectly straight beside her with its tip resting next to her thighs.

A smirk graced the pirate queen’s lips, and she licked a fang smoothly as she prepared to speak.

“Lord Admiral,” Sylvanas said, sweeping out a hand in a mocking greeting. The dark purple and gold trim of her long captain’s coat was striking, despite the tattered fringe at the bottom. “Most people request permission to come aboard another captain’s ship.”

For a second, Jaina forgot how to speak. The low-cut, simple black blouse that Sylvanas wore under her open coat did not make it any easier.

She swallowed her instinct to stammer like the young wizard and seafarer in training she had been more than a dozen years ago, and instead set her jaw, tilting her head upwards. Her jawline caught the moonlight, her profile strong and unyielding.

“Your reputation for politeness even as you’re holding a knife to a sailor’s throat is well-known,” Jaina replied. “I thought to take a chance.”

Sylvanas leaned forward, her eyes narrowing in what appeared to be genuine curiosity. It only served to make her seem all the more dangerous, for sincerity was easily falsified.

“You realize that I am, in fact, the most feared captain on the seas, and yet you’ve come to talk to me in my lair. What could possibly be so important?”

And there was the question.

Jaina matched the pirate queen’s smirk, and with a flourish of her hand, bowed low.

“I have crossed the seas to find you, to bestow a message upon you.”

Sylvanas’s eyebrow raised, and one of her long ears twitched forward slightly, attention wholly on the Lord Admiral.

“The message is that the Lord Admiral, Jaina Proudmoore, has crossed the seas from Stormwind, to Pandaria, to distant Rut’theran, to the frozen northlands, to find you.”

Jaina took a quick breath, to continue with power in her voice.

“To find you, the most beautiful woman to have graced the oceans in an age. The purpose is to inform you of that fact. You are the most stunning and glorious sights I have ever chanced upon, and I realized I must see such a pretty woman in person.”

Sylvanas’s shock was evident on her face, no mask there to obscure it.

The silence grew, moment by moment, until Sylvanas simply let her head lean back and laughed. Mirthful and genuine, she had to hold up her hand and stop herself after she went on for long moments. Relief washed over Jaina like a spring tide, and her shoulders relaxed, tenseness easing away.

“Very well, Lord Admiral,” Sylvanas said slowly, finally having caught her breath. “Then in return, there is a curious thing you might find on the 30th day of this month, on small island to the northeast of Stormwind Harbor. You’ll know it by the old governor’s mansion.”

Jaina tilted her head, her interest piqued by the odd reply.

“Oh, and do be there before half past noon,” she added. “I promise you no harm will come, nor any imprisonment. On my mother’s pistol.”

“I accept,” Jaina replied. She had come so far, after all.

What was another step further?

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you liked this piece or others I've created, and feel free to leave any constructive criticism in comments here or in asks at our tumblrs, including if you spy a missing tag or typos (they're evil):  
> http://archaema.tumblr.com/  
> http://offkeelworld.tumbr.com/


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